Bad Luck Equals V-Day Hate
by sapphire blue-ruby red roses
Summary: Belarus has always had bad luck around Valentines Day. Is she going to maybe get a break this year? Haha, nope.
1. Chapter 1: Only the Beginning

**So, here's the first chapter of my multi-chapter fic that I hope to complete by Valentine's Day (a.k.a. Single's Awareness Day). Whelp, here we go!**

_Italics _**means thoughts**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and never, sadly, will.**

Chapter 1: Only the Beginning

The press of his lips on hers was warm and welcoming. Even in his drunken state, he'd lost none of his ability to leave a girl breathless with his kisses. He tasted like booze and those awful hamburgers he was constantly eating, but also something sweet and intoxicating.

Despite her mind pulling away, her body pulled forward, pressing flush against the man's hard, tone frame. She pushed her hands through his thick, dirty-blonde hair, wrapping her fingers around those silken strands. With her new leverage, she pulled him even closer to her, crushing their mouths together. Her skin was feverish, aching for simple skin to skin contact.

The contact this man provided lit molten rivers of pleasure in places she barely knew existed before then. Sure, she'd had other men, and even women, plenty of times before, but it'd never been like this. This was new and exciting. He was so much warmer than what she was used to.

A small moan escaped her mouth.

With that noise, she was thrust clear into reality. Her body was hyper sensitive against the man's. She could feel every place her body pressed to his, the mountains and valleys and plains of his muscles, the uncomfortable heat building between her thighs as she straddled his lap, the press of him against her soft flesh through his military pants, the man's hands slipping up the back of her neck and into her hair.

Gasping, Belarus shoved away from America, scrambling away from him. She dove behind the couch, dropping her burning face into her knees. Her heart beat a painful staccato rhythm against her ribs. "What was that? Why did he do that?" she mumbled miserably, "He's just drunk. Yeah, that's it. He'll have forgotten it by tomorrow's meeting." She tried excruciatingly hard to convince herself, though her logical mind was having none of it.

Little did she know that just on the other side of the room of drunken, singing, groping, emotional countries, America still sat, a thick rosy blush decorating his cheeks. He wasn't as drunk as Belarus was trying to convince herself that he was. He was sober enough that he'd remember every detail the morning after.

…..

Belarus stared sulkily down at her papers, not really seeing the words that were typed there. She snuggled deeper into her fur coat, trying to shut out the cold that she'd never before had a problem with. After the fiasco at his house the night before, Germany had decided that they'd move the meeting to her place. Why he didn't move it to somewhere closer, she had no clue? Her home was still in a winter cold spell. Snow was still piling along sidewalks and lakes were still frozen enough to skate on.

The meeting was wearing on and on. Germany had taken over hours ago, deciding it'd be easier to get things done if he was calling the shots. It was, but he still dragged the meeting out because of all the fighting that was constantly going on.

Unintentionally, she glanced up towards were America seemed to be in a heated debate with thin air. She knew that he was arguing with his twin, but she just couldn't see him. As if on cue, Canada shimmered slightly into view, spouting insults at his brother. She watched the exchange with indifference, her eyes half-lidded with boredom.

As if sensing her stare, America's sky blue eyes flickered to her, locking with her dark, almost navy, blue eyes that seemed to be undecided on whether they wanted to mix with ash grey or purple. Heat flashed across her face, and she dropped her eyes back to her notes.

Instantly, she began scolding herself. "_What are you doing? It's obvious he doesn't remember anything. Don't act like something happened. He'll just figure it out!_" Her inner lecture was quickly interrupted by her siblings leaning in towards her.

"Belarus, are you alright? Your face is red," Russia asked in Russian, concern entering his voice despite how she scared the ever living darkness out of him.

"Yes, you haven't caught a cold have you, little sister?" Ukraine asked, leaning over to press their foreheads together.

Belarus pushed the big-breasted woman away from her. "I'm fine. Stop treating me like a child." All of the irritation she felt, not only at her siblings, but at the situation that stupid America had put her in and simply because of something happening this week, came out in her words, making them harsh and curt.

The pair flinch, just the slightest bit, and looked at each other over her head. "What day is it?" Ukraine asked.

"The 12th," Russia replied. The same pained looked crossed the siblings' faces. They knew what that meant. Without saying anything else, they sat back in their chairs.

'_Yeah, that's right_,' Belarus thought bitterly, glaring hard at her hands resting on her lap, '_Stay away from the girl with bad luck. We all remember what happened last year on Valentine's Day_.' It'd be a hard thing to forget by any means. It wasn't every day that your bad luck almost gets your brother smashed by a falling tree. Belarus squeezed her fingers together hard. Maybe if she broke them her bad luck would leave her alone this year. '_Not. Likely_.'

"But why?" America whined, slamming his hand down on the table, "We never have the meetings at my place! Plus, it's much warmer than here."

"Don't lie! It's just as cold in New York as it is here!" Canada shouted at him, irritation and anger making him visible for the whole group to see.

"Not in Florida!" America retaliated.

"We're not moving the meeting!" Germany shouted over the bickering.

"Why?" Once again, America unnecessarily slammed his hand down on the table. It groaned ominously. If he hit it one more time with that much strength behind it, he'd break the table.

Belarus glared daggers at him. "If you break my table, I'll break your neck," she snarled. Immediately, his hands were removed from the table.

"It's too much of an inconvenience," Germany explained in a calmly strained voice, "We will stay in Belarus to finish the meeting. We will not move unless extraneous circumstances require us to move. Until then, we stay here."

America was silent, watching Germany. "And if we have to move, we'll take the meeting to my place." It wasn't a question.

Germany threw his hands up in exasperation, bringing his hands palms down on the table. "Yes. Fine. Will that make you shut up?"

"Yes, happily," America replied cheekily, sliding back into his chair with a satisfied smile. Canada shot daggers at him, sliding back into his own seat.

"Now, about this issue…" Germany didn't get to finish his statement because the moment he lifted his hands from the table, it collapsed with a groan. Papers became air-born, fluttering around them. As the papers settled, there was a flash and a dagger imbedded itself in the wooden beam just behind Germany, a piece of papers written in Finish caught beneath.

The room went silent. Slowly, all eyes turned to Belarus. Her chair had fallen with the speed of her stand. Her face was dark with emotion, the aura around her brighter than usual. Her arm was still out, and her wrist was still twisted from when she'd flung the knife. "This meeting is over. Tomorrow, we are moving this meeting to the U.S.," she said with such finality that no one had the balls to challenge her, "Now get out of my meeting room."

…..

"Why ice skating?" Lithuania asked Belarus a little over and hour later. They glided smoothly across the frozen surface of the lake turning in lazy circles. He had his hand in hers pulling her along easily. He seemed to be the only one who was comfortable with her at the moment.

Belarus sighed loudly, bring her foot in just a bit to turn in a tighter circle. "Because last time we went to a bar, that bar was burned down," she explained. She could still remember having to rush from the building because the curtains had caught fire and started spreading before they'd realized what was happening. It had actually been Prussia's fault thinking he could juggle flaming balls. Obviously, he'd been wrong.

Lithuania nodded, watching the other nations attempting to learn to skate around them. Canada whizzed passed them, completely content on ice. "And the lake?"

"The ice rink closest to here got shut down because of renovation," she replied, her eyes unconsciously following America's movements.

"I thought it was because they found a dead body in the ice."

"That was after they started the renovations."

"Ah."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, moving slowly around the outside of the groups. They passed Italy hanging onto Germany's hands, his legs splayed out uncomfortably. "Let's move closer into the middle," Belarus suggested, pulling on the other's hand and tightening her circles. She weaved between the nearly stagnant individuals, sliding neatly under raised arms and making split second turns to avoid a falling nation. She was breathing hard, her cheeks red and her eyes alight with adrenaline, by the time she pulled Lithuania to a stop in the middle. She'd managed to take them through the crowd three or four times. Lithuania was breathing hard as well, bent over with his hands on his knees.

The pair jumped as a voice came from behind them. "Hey, Toris, dude, can I talk to you for a moment?" America asked, coming around in front of them. He was trying to keep his eyes off of Belarus, but it was hard. The memory of the night before just kept flashing across his mind's eye. He wondered if she remembered too. Heat rushed up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

Lithuania looked between Belarus, whose face had gone redder than when they'd stopped, to America, whose eyes kept darting to the indifferent female. "Uh, sure," he agreed.

"Dinner is served!" France called from one of the shores. He waved the other countries over, placing his hands on his hips. Beside him, England reclined on a bench, watching the proceedings. Evidently, he hadn't been allowed to help make the food.

Immediately, the other nations began moving towards him. "Hey, Toris, let's go eat!" Poland called happily in the other male's ear, sliding up and latching onto his arm. He started dragging his away against Lithuania's half-hearted protests.

America and Belarus stood there watching the couple move away. "Are you going to come?" he asked, jerking his head towards the shore, and grinning at her.

Her only reply was a wave of her hand. She needed time to think and this seemed like the only time she'd get for a while. Slowly, she made a lazy circle around him, letting it slowly grow.

America watched her progress wishing he knew what she was thinking. In the end, he just moved away towards the others. He needed to talk to a couple of them anyway. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the hero needed help.

Belarus spun to a stop, spraying ice to her side. She stood in the middle of the lake, watching everyone yelling and having fun over food. She watched as even her brother, scary to many of the other countries, giggled happily, ruffling America's hair affectionately. That's when she heard the cracking, low and loud.

Eyes growing wide, Belarus glanced down at the ice beneath her feet. There, right underneath her, was a huge, ugly crack growing with every passing second. Fear spiked through her. Adrenaline poured into her bloodstream, making her heart pump that much faster.

Experimentally pushing one of her feet forward towards an untouched slab of ice, her stomach knotted as the crack grew towards where she'd set her weight. "Brother," she said quietly, definitely not loud enough for any of the others to hear her, but they didn't have to hear her, they heard the cracking instead.

When the first sound of cracking came to them, the group went quiet, testing to see if they heard it again. When it didn't return immediately, they returned to their food and conversations. It was only until Russia and Ukraine snapped their heads up in concern that everyone really heard it. The deep rumble that they'd all heard at least once in their long lives. Every head snapped towards the lake.

"Belarus!" Russia, Ukraine and America cried, jumping to their feet. The entire group rushed towards the edge of the ice, hesitant to embark on the journey to save the stranded nation.

America placed his foot on the ice, testing it. Luckily, it held. He started onto the ice, stopping as the cracks grew louder. His eyes darted to Belarus, checking on her. Her normally carefully composed face was twisted in fear.

"Brother!" she called louder, still staring at the ice. All around her, the cracks were spreading, becoming an intricate spider web around her. The ice would not hold much longer, and she couldn't run for it. It would break as soon as she moved.

'_Why is this happening_?' she wondered, fear tingeing even her thoughts. '_The ice should not be melting for another month and a half. It's too cold!_' she thought frantically, but she knew that wasn't going to save her.

"Belarus, hold on! I'm coming to get you right now," America called, shuffling faster across the ice.

Belarus glanced away from the ice towards the man coming towards her slowly. Hope curled in her chest, trying to choke out the fear, but deep down, she knew he wouldn't be able to reach her in time. She turned her eyes back to the ice just in time to see it crack one last time. "Alfred!" she screeched as she was submerged in the Artic cold water.

…..

"Is she alright?" someone asked above her. Her body was freezing and stiff. Her breath came out harsh and hoarse like she'd been coughing the entire night without drinking anything. Warm breath fanned across her face, and warm skin was pressed to her normally cold skin. It felt so good, and… so familiar. Struggling, she tried to open her eyes.

"Shh, be quiet. She's coming around," someone else whispered.

Belarus coughed hard, her breath wheezing out between her clenched teeth. Forcing her eyes open, she was confronted with the sight of America's and Russia's faces first. She flicked her eyes around them, noticing the others standing in a semi-tight circle around the scene.

"Little sister, are you alright?" Ukraine asked, sitting on her knees in front of her. It was then that she noticed the tight hold America's arms had around her. He was shuddering from the cold just as hard as she was, a thick wool blanket wrapped around them.

Against the protests around her, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her hair was soaked, already starting to form ice crystals. Her clothes weren't any better. Cocking her head slightly, she stared at the dress she'd been wearing now sitting just inside the circle. She was only in the underdress she'd been wearing. America wasn't in much better shape, only in his boxers and dog tags. She glared at him, her face reddening.

"Don't blame me, I was told that we had to get your body temp up and this was the only way," he replied, holding his hands up in defense.

With that, she turned her glare on Russia. He pulled China in front of him, hiding unsuccessfully behind the smaller man.

Ignoring the freezing temperature of her body and her see through underdress, she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm going home," she said curtly, turning from the others, snatching up her dress and hurrying away towards where everyone had parked their cars.

"Wait, Belarus," America called, scrambling to his feet and hurrying after her.

"Don't talk to me," she snapped, her face burning with embarrassment. Why was he the one who saved her? More importantly, why did the ice have to break at all? She didn't look back at him as she yanked her car door open, and crammed herself into it.

America was silent for a moment, running his hand through his wet hair. He clutched the blanket around his bare shoulder. He caught her door before she could slam it shut in his face. "You'll be in New York tomorrow right?"

She didn't look at him. She didn't think she could look him straight in the face ever again. "Yeah, sure."

Sighing, he pulled the blanket from his shoulders and threw it around Belarus'. Without saying anything more, he closed her door and started back towards the others. He stood tall and strong, the muscles in his back rippling as he jumped on his brother. Belarus looked away quickly, her cheeks burning as she started her car.

**Well, yeah, there you go. Belarus' first accident and only one of many to come. I feel kind of bad with all the things I'll be doing to her, but oh well. It's all for the sake of the writing experience *snort* Yeah, sure, just keep telling yourself that Sapphire. People are really going to believe you xD Anyway, feed the review monster or something extremely bad may happen to Belarus in the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2: Only a House Fire

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I ever own, Hetalia**

**WARNING!: Unedited, that is all**

Chapter 2: Only a House Fire

Belarus stood by her stove, monitoring the food before her. Oil popped in a pan, little bubbles of the liquid jumping happily out of the pan, splashing onto her skin, but she didn't feel it. Her mind was elsewhere, a bad thing when cooking. In her living room, a fire crackled indifferently, consuming the wood given to it.

The scene from the evening before played in her head again followed closely by the scene from earlier that afternoon. She could still feel his warm hands sliding across her smooth skin, sending heat flooding throughout her body. She could still feel his lips against hers, kissing back vigorously. She could still feel his bare chest pressing into her arm.

Shaking her head, Belarus frowned at the bread pastries floating on the top of the oil, slowly making their way to a light brown. She just couldn't take her mind of that man, and she didn't know why which irritated her even more than just constantly thinking about him! Every time she thought he might be out of her head for a while, he just pops back up unannounced to torture her some more. She was getting sick and tired of it! It was funny because it was only the day after that first incident meaning there were many more days ahead of her that seemed like they would be just the same as today minus the falling into a frozen lake.

Sighing in frustration, Belarus scooped the pastries from the oil, setting them on a plate covered in napkins. Some of the oil splashed forward, landing on the fire, and the whole pot went up in flames.

Letting out a squeak of surprise and fear, Belarus jumped back from the pot. She snatched up a rag from the counter, threw it over the pot and turned off the flames. The small fire was quickly extinguished, but not before it had burned a hole in her dish towel. She stared down at the small, singed hole and sighed. "I liked that one too. It was from big brother," she sighed, pulling it from the pot, "Maybe I could patch it up."

She was staring down at the ruined rag when the smell hit her. It wasn't the smell of burning wood or burnt oil like you'd expect. No, it was the smell of smelting paint and burning carpet.  
"What the hell?" she cried, her head snapping up to find her entire kitchen filled to the brim with coiling back smoke. Flames burst into the kitchen from her living room, curling around the doorframe and up her walls.

Backing up quickly, her back smacked into the opposite wall. Never pulling her eyes from the door, she searched for door that she knew was to her side. She backed out it before running around to the other side to see if she could get out the front door. She was only met with more flames. She ground her teeth wondering how she was going to get out, maybe through a window, when she hears his voice, the voice she'd been thinking of all afternoon.

"Belarus!" America called from somewhere behind her. She swings around searching for his voice, but the thick black smoke is all she can see.

Coughing hard, she called, "America?" She lifted the front of her pajamas to cover her nose and mouth, narrowing her eyes against the smoke. She ran the other way, away from the smoke and fire towards the back of her house, and literally ran into America. He caught her before she hit the ground. "America!" she cried, eyes growing wide.

Grabbing her hand, America pulled her along to the back of her house. A window stood open, the screen popped off and lying on the ground. Taking her waist, he helped her through the window before jumping after her. "What happened?" he asked, pulling her further away from the burning house.

She allowed him to pull her a safe distance away from the house before jerking her hand from his. "What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?" she snapped, anger and embarrassment tingeing her words. This was the second time he'd had to save her today. Was her bad luck extra bad this year?

He smirked, but shook his head. "A hero doesn't need to stalk girls," he said vainly before the grin fell, "I came to see if you were alright, Russia gave me your address, but I just found your house on fire. Are you alright?"

Belarus stared up into his concerned face. There was a black smudge across his cheek like the smoke had stuck to his skin. It was certainly obscuring the intoxicating aroma he unknowingly released on a daily basis. "I'm fine."

He looked away from her, up at the house now completely engulfed in flames. "Do you know how that started?" He pulled his black clouded glasses from his face and started cleaning them on his shirt tail.

She looked down at the dish towel she still had clutched to her chest. "No, I don't. I was cooking and then my house was filled with smoke, so no."

America sighed loudly, running his hand through his mussed hair. "I guess we should call Russia then," he muttered. He glanced down at her, running his eyes up and down her body. "If we can't get you some clothes before leaving tomorrow, you can borrow some of Hungary's clothes, or maybe Seychelles, but she's a bit small-chested. You'd fit into Hungary's clothes better." He was talking to her and not at the same time, fiddling with the phone in his pocket.

"Yes," she agreed, watching his fingers intently. She wondered what they'd feel like moving across more sensitive places on her body. At that thought, her face flared brightly.

Sighing once more, America finally pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed the Russian. The pair spoke rapidly for what felt like seconds, but was most likely actually a few minutes. Only minutes later, Russia pulled forward in his sleek black car, snow chains clinking across the gravel. "What happened?" he asked too innocently, nodding towards her house which was still burning to ashes.

"Isn't it obvious?" Belarus asked sulkily, sliding into the passenger seat of her brother's car seeing as hers was currently burning along with the rest of her belongings. Speaking of which… "My car is still in the garage," she said simply.

The two men stared at her in horror. Russia threw the car in reverse and America took off at a dead sprint back towards his car. They had just paused at what they thought was a safe distance when the tank of Belarus' car erupted. They watched the fireworks erupt, shooting into the dark sky.

"Well, that's… unfortunate," Russia murmured with little to no enthusiasm, "America, you can leave. We'll wait here for the police."

"Cool. I'll see you guys in New York tomorrow. I'm heading our tonight," he told them, glancing at his watch, "Actually I've got to get going now. My plane leaves in less than an hour." Despite those words, he still leaned into the car, his hands on the roof and the door.

Belarus stared ahead unable to look at the man who'd once again taken the initiative to save her. Honestly, who would do that? Not even her brother would risk his life for hers. Well, maybe, but she highly doubted it. Here was this nearly complete stranger though, saving her twice in the same day. A thought struck her, and her insides shuddered. Geez, she hoped this wasn't going to become a habit. She didn't think her sanity could take much more abuse, not that it could take much to begin with.

Russia's words brought her back into the reality. "Da, we'll see you tomorrow. Try not to throw anymore fits while you're still in the country," he advised with his trademark smile.

America scoffed. "I don't throw fits. I tell people what's right and listen to them argue with me," he corrected with a curt not. He still didn't move away from the car. No, instead his hand from the roof dropped to rest on the shoulder of her seat.

She fought to keep her eyes forward. When he still didn't move, she snapped at him, "Didn't you have a plane to catch?"

"Right," he murmured, staring at her intently. She felt her cheeks begin to heat again. "I'll see you tomorrow. Stay out of trouble." His fingers ran along her cheek, skimming across her lips for only the space of a heartbeat, then he was gone, walking towards his car.

She didn't catch the mischievous smirk Russia threw them, or even the gas can and matches seated on the floor behind her seat.

…..

"What the hell?" Romano shouted as they came out of the airport only to be hit with a blizzard, "What the fuck is with all the snow?" He shuffled closer to Spain, trying to soak in some of the heat the Spaniard always seemed to radiate.

"That bloody wanker lied to us!" England shouted indignantly over the roar of the wind, pressing his hat to his head

All of the higher altitude countries glanced at each other, smirking. "Looks like spring, aye," Canada said a little mockingly, giggling quietly into Kumajiro's fur at the nations' discomfort. Most people didn't know it, but Canada could be as sadistic as a mafia boss at times. When people glimpsed that side of him, they often never recovered from the shock.

Belarus stared up at the swirling snow wondering silently if it was like this all of the time. She'd only ever been to New York for World Meetings and for some reason there always seemed to be a bad storm going on at the time. She didn't mind. She was used to the cold. She took the first steps away from the airport, and her foot slid right out from under her.

The icy blacktop rushed towards her at an alarming speed. She was sure she was going to crack her skull open until a pair of strong, warm hands pulled her up just in time. "Got here just in time." She knew that voice, and felt her face turn strawberry red in mortification instead of embarrassment this time. He must think she was a stupid klutz like Italy at times, unable to go anywhere or do anything without supervision.

When she looked up into America's face, of course it wasn't derision that she found there. No, it was a bright, shiny smile, ready and waiting for her.

"Man, Natalya, you must have the worst luck ever," he said, pulling her to her feet and dusting the snow that had jumped up and grabbed onto her skirt off. She'd managed to borrow a dress from the ever helpful Hungary.

Frowning, she thought, '_When did he start calling me Natalya_?'

"You stupid, lying asshole!" Romano shouted over the crowd of nations, glaring at the taller yet much younger nation, "It's colder than hell out here! My balls are falling off!"

"They can't fall off if you never had them to begin with," Denmark murmured to Belgium, making her giggle uncontrollably. The Netherlands glared over at him, but let it alone.

"Yeah, sorry, dudes. It started up right as your planes were landing. So my boss has gotten up train tickets down to Miami. Come on, it's not far," he said, motioning the other nations forward, his hand never leaving hers, "Onward to our destination!"

Now the embarrassment was setting in. She didn't want to be seen by the other nations holding the hand of such a twat. What would they think? _What would they assume_? That seemed much worse than just thinking.

With grumbles and small complaints from the others, they started across the street. He led them into a bustling subway. Packed from wall to wall were people. The milled around, shouting over each other to be heard. A violist played in a corner, unseen by most, the hum of his deep strings resonating deep within her chest.

"Don't let go of my hand," America called back to her, his grip tightening on hers. She was too short to see over most of the crowds' heads, but by the look on his face, he'd seen something that wasn't good.

Another hand latched onto hers. She glanced back and found Canada, slightly scared, but smiling sweetly, holding onto her hand. He was dragging along Italy who was in turn dragging Germany and so on.

The crowd pressed tighter in around them, crushing in around her. Her fingers began slipping from America's. That's when he shouted louder than anyone, "Pregnant women coming through! Make way! Some of them are going into labor!" Immediately, the press of bodies on her was gone, and some of the female countries, and even some of the males, began shouting as if they were in excruciating pain. He herded everyone into the nearest car, stuffing all of the nations, and no one else, into the confined space.

"Where are we going now?" Italy asked excitedly, his face flushed from screaming, and his eyes bright and open.

"Grand Central Station and then we'll be off to Miami." America still hadn't let go of Belarus' fingers.

**Well, there you go. I hope you liked it. Review please! *begging on knees* Please! My self-esteem took a terrible hit during peer editing today in English… No, that's a lie, I'm not even going to listen to her suggestions. Anyway, you should edit or Belarus may somehow find a way to fall off of the train =D**


	3. Chapter 3: Into the Water with You!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**You should just expect the rest of the coming chapters to be unedited. Have fun! :D**

Chapter 3: Into the Water with You!

"Bathroom breaks are over!" Germany shouted, sticking his head out the meeting room door. He stared sternly at the nations who had lingered in the hallway for longer than the ten minutes permitted to go pee and get something to snack on.

Belarus glared back just as hard, but when he didn't budge, she pushed her wall and slid undetected into the room. It was huge with long, sound absorbing curtains which made no sense in a conference room. The table was ovular, as usual, and the other nations were currently in different stages of a cat nap or eating snacks.

America, Hungary, Japan, and several other nations scuttled into the room, grinning like co-conspirators in a nasty little plan. Even Japan had a small grin on his face. She tried to figure out how many of them were because of a discussion they'd been having or because someone had given them a blowjob just moments before.

Her imagination immediately took that idea and ran with it, shoving pictures she had no need for into her head. Jealously built in her chest as images of America flashed across her mind. Then she realized what she was doing, fantasizing, and shoved her underused imagination back into its box and sat on it.

The other nations found their seats quickly. She was the last to sit down. There was a screeching, high-pitched scream was she moved towards her seat. The moment her rear made contact with the cushioning of the chair, her seat collapsed beneath her. She managed to hang onto the table so she wouldn't hit the awkward pieces jutting up this way and that from the pile.

Mortification twisted in her belly as she pulled herself up to stand. They all stared at her, wide-eyed. Utter terror flashed in their eyes. "I-I'm leaving," she muttered, walking swiftly towards the door. She could feel tears burning in the back of her throat. She couldn't believe that had just happened. Could she embarrass herself _anymore_ in America's presence?

'_Why do I care what he thinks of me_?' she thought bitterly to herself, '_He doesn't mean anything to me_.'

"_Liar_," her mind sang happily back at her, "_You are such a liar_."

"Shut up," she growled aloud without realizing it.

"Um, okay, but I haven't said anything yet," America said from behind her.

He had followed her?! Who did he think he was? Sure, he was a super power. Sure, he was a rather successful country, but that had nothing to do with personal affairs. Outrage swiftly overtook any other emotions she may have been feeling. She spun around, ready to imbed one of her daggers in his forehead, but when she saw the concern on his face, concern for her, the tears broke from the dam and came spilling forward.

Belarus drew back, snapping her eyes shut and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She hiccupped involuntarily, her shoulders shaking. '_Stop crying. Stop crying. You don't cry. You're strong. You can't show weakness in front of others_.' Despite her usual mantra from reeling back her emotions, they still flung themselves all over the floor, mocking her with their freedom.

Those strong, familiar arms were around her in second, pulling her against America's solid chest. He didn't say anything, pressing her face into his shirt. He knew, somewhere in the recesses of his mind that actually pay attention to his surroundings, that Belarus would hate for the others to see her crying. She'd probably kill him just for seeing her cry. He wouldn't be surprised in the least.

He stroked her hair gently, pressing his nose into the top of her head. She smelled delicious like sugar and sunflower, of course, but under that there seemed to be a flowery scent that he couldn't put his finger on.

The scene lasted a very short time.

"Get off of me!" Belarus growled, her voice still somewhat hoarse from her crying. It was obvious that she was trying to hold back a stutter. She shoved him away forcefully, turning and running before he could do anything more. Before he could see her face burning rose red.

"Where did Belarus go?" Lithuania asked only moments later, stepping up beside the taller man.

America still stared after her, the sight of her flying hair and flowing skirts hard to forget. "She ran away," he murmured, his mind nowhere near the hallway that they stood in.

Lithuania looked up at him, a small smile spreading across his lips. "Don't worry, she'll come around eventually," he soothed, patting his friend on the shoulder and turning him back towards the conference room, "Let's finish up this meeting and maybe you'll be able to get her to have some fun."

America pursed his lips, watching straight ahead. "Some fun, hmm? I can do that," he hummed thoughtfully, letting the other man lead him away.

…..

"Come to the beach, they said. It'll be fun, they said," Belarus grumbled to herself in annoyance, watching the other nations fling sea water at each other from where she was standing by the snack bar. She leaned back on the weathered wood, glaring around at other beach-goers from behind a pair of dark lensed, black framed sunglasses. Somehow, Hungary and Belgium had been able to force her into a skimpy blue bikini. A thin skirt wound around her waist, the ends tied in a knock on her hip making the rest of the material slope sharply until it came to a stop at her opposite leg's knee.

As an added annoyance, Hungary had confiscated all of her knives, daggers, and the one handgun she carried just in case her sharp beauties didn't get the job done.

Sighing loudly, she turned her back on the group towards the man behind the bar. She tried to flick her hair over her shoulder before remember that the girls had pulled it into a high ponytail with the help of a ribbon, and only strands of it fell around her face now. An irritated growl was the next sound to slip from between her lips.

"What can I get you?" the man behind the counter asked politely, keeping his eyes down on where they worked cleaning off the bar. He had a soft Spanish accent, the kind that had a kind of musical lilt to it due to their second language.

She'd never been to the west coast before, but she'd heard Mexico's accent, and had to admit she enjoyed the Cuban accent much more.

"Do you have anything with vodka in it?" she wondered, only half joking. She really needed a drink right around then.

"I'll need to see some ID," the man replied, glancing up at her. A flirtatious grin spread across his face. Now, she realized, he was much younger than she'd first thought. "What's a pretty young thing like you drinking such hard liquor?"

Her smile was hard, but you couldn't tell unless you knew what to look for. Even irritated, she could flirt with the best of them. Now didn't seem like a great time, but maybe if America saw- She cut off her thoughts right there. No way was she going down that way, even if it was one of the deciding factors in her actions.

"Just here with some friends." She nodded towards the water where the other nations were slowly, but surely, being baked by the sun. She saw Hungary approaching out of the corner of her eye.

"You've got a lot of friends there. Maybe I could round up a couple of my buddies and we can all go out after my shift ends," he offered, leaning forward on the bar, "By the way, I'm Marcus." He held out his hand to her.

She took it, and crushed it in her tight grip. "Belarus." She wasn't about to give him her human name. That was reserved for only people she thought deserved to know.

"L-like the country?" the man asked, pulling his hand back to message it.

"Exactly, now, that vodka…" Belarus prompted, leaning forward on her arms.

He couldn't keep his eyes off her chest. "R-right…" Tearing his eyes away from her seemed physically painful for him. She loved the rush of power she felt flooding through her body.

Hugary slid in next to Belarus, her boobs resting on her crossed arms in the same position as Belarus. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously, watching the flustered man quickly throw together Belarus' drink.

"Getting a drink."

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can see that. What are you doing to that guy? That position you're in is not of innocent intent."

Besides resting her boobs on her arms, Belarus had her ass sticking out at an inviting angle for men to stare at, giving them a long view of her flawless back and toned legs. "Reeling in men for fun."

"It does seem like a lot of fun," Hungary agreed, watching at the men slowly began to pile up around them, "I think I'll join you." Maybe she could piss Prussia off. That would definitely be fun. They hadn't had a fight to the death in a while, and she kind of missed it.

"Here you go," the bartender said, turning around to hand Belarus the drink when he spotted Hungary copying Belarus' stand. He nearly dropped the glass. He slid it in front of Belarus, his eyes darting between the pair. "C-can I get you something?"

"A beer," Hungary replied with a bright smile.

The man nodded, pulling a bottle from under the counter and popping the top. "Don't worry about the drinks, they're on the house. I'll see you later then?" He seemed to have reassembled his composure, his flirtatious smile back brighter than before.

The women didn't reply, turning and walking away down the beach towards the pier. Smirks lit their faces. It was an eerie sight the two women walking side by side. Nobody would even to dare cross them, especially if they knew the pair. Eyes followed them wherever they went.

"The water is so pretty and blue here," Hungary called happily, leaning over the edge of the pier, her hand clasped around the wooden pole as she stared into the churning blue-green mass, "Come over here and look at the water Belarus. It's breathtaking." She turned her face towards the horizon, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

"Okay," Belarus replied cautiously, shuffling closer to the edge. She peered into the water and was pleasantly surprised. The water was very pretty. She glanced up towards the horizon. Hungary was right, it was breathtaking. Unlike many of the other countries, she'd never taken the chance to actually go to the sea and look at it. She could see for miles, only blue expanse. The sun skidded across the choppy surface, reflecting back vigorously.

The pair was so entranced that they didn't hear the running footsteps thundering towards them. "Make way!" a male voice shouted, but not soon enough. He plowed into Belarus hard.

She pitched forward, flailing her arms helplessly. "A-A-Alfred!" she shouted as she plummeted towards that beautiful water.

She hit the surface with an echoing crack, shooting deep under the surface of the sea. Almost immediately, she was swept out to sea. Her eyes burned viciously with the salt of the water. Flailing, she tried to swim to the surface. The only thing was, she didn't know how to swim.

Breaking the surface, she sputtered. "Brother! Alfred!" she managed to shout before a wave crashed over her head, forcing her back under water. Sea water flooded her mouth. Her lungs were already burning with the need for oxygen. Black spots dotted her vision, growing ever larger. The water jerked her this way and that. She couldn't tell up from down any longer.

This was it for her. This was how she, a nations, was going to die. '_How pathetic_…'

'_Alfred! Brother! Someone help me, please_!' she thought desperately just before the darkness flooded her sight.

**Obviously, we're not going to get to Valentine's Day in this fic by Valentine's Day, but let's hope that we get there. You know, I had a point to this fic, but now it's really just me torturing Belarus. It's actually pretty fun. I think I'll be adding some fluffiness into the next chappie. Feed the review monster while you wait! *monster knashes teeth***


	4. Chapter 4: Bitter Taste

**Happy Valentine's Day! I have no valentine xD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**Still not edited, have fun! :D**

Chapter 4: Bitter Taste

"RAWR!" America shouted as he grabbed England by the waist and started into the ocean with him slung over his shoulder.

England yelped and immediately started pounding on the younger male's back. "Put me down, you oaf!" he shouted, squirming so much that the pair went plummeting into the water. Water rushed over their heads, and for a moment, they couldn't breathe.

They broke the surface, sputtering and coughing. America started barking out laughter. "I'm going to kill you!" England threatened, standing over America menacingly, but before he could act on his threat, France walked by and threw him over his shoulder. "Son of a bitch, not again!" The Frenchman's lecherous laughter faded quickly.

"Do you see that chick over there?" a male's voice asked, not close, but not quiet enough to be inaudible.

"Yeah, dude, she's hot," his friend agreed.

America's head snapped up. The pair was standing between him and the bar. They were staring at a female leaning against the counter. He stood, looking around them. They were right, she was hot, and looked utterly familiar.

"She looks like a foreigner," the first male said, his head moving slowly up and down as he scanned her body.

The friend laughed. "That'll make it all the easier. Come on, let's go hit that up." They started towards the female, and America realized who the girl was.

He stormed from the water and across that sand before the men had even taken two steps. He threw his arms around their necks like he was an old friend. Jealousy and anger fueled his actions.

"What the-?" they started, but he cut them off.

"You see that lady over there boys?" he asked in a conversational tone, smiling widely, "She's way out of your league."

"What? And you aren't?" the friend sneered, trying to twist out from under his arm, but America just tightened the hand he hand on their shoulders until it started hurting, "Hey, man, that hurts! Let up!"

America's smile tightened until it was a little threatening. "She is seeing as she's mine. Now, I'm not going to stop you from hitting on her, but be warned, she will rip your balls off and feed them to you. And then you'll have me to deal with," he told them too cheerily, "Oh, and she knows perfect English." He let go of their shoulders and clapped them on the back. "Go have fun."

The pair glanced at each other. "I think we'll try someone else," the first man replied hesitantly. They started walking back towards the water, this time eyeing Hungary and the other girls.

America's smirk grew. "By the way, some advice, the woman in the green…" He pointed to Hungary. "She's just as vicious as the woman at the bar, plus she's spoken for by two men who will brutally murder you. The woman in blue…" He pointed to Ukraine. "Her brother, that Russian wearing the scarf, will skin you alive. And the girls in pink…" He pointed next to Taiwan and Liechtenstein. "Their lovers will torture you in some creative way, I'm sure. And the woman in the black…" It was Belgium's turn. "Her brother is that big scary silent man next to her. He prefers slow and painful deaths. And lastly, the girl in the white…" He pointed to Seychelles. "Let's just say all of her big brothers, me included, will throw you to the sharks without a second thought." Throughout his entire warning, that unnerving smile never left his lips.

The men's eyes went wide. They glanced at each other once more and without saying another word, hurried down the beach, glancing back at him fearfully every few steps until they were out of sight.

America let out a long sigh, eyes flicking to Belarus at the bar. She was smiling sweetly at the man behind the counter, her hips at an alluring angle. If he was afraid that he'd never look at him again, he'd go up behind her and run his hands along her hips, like he had that night only two nights ago. Annoyance spiked through him sharper than before as he saw the man, or more teen, smiling at her flirtatiously. What was it? Piss off Alfred day?

He started towards them, ready to break up that little conversation, but Hungary slid in beside her and Italy flung himself onto his back. "Ciao, amico! What are you doing? Are you watching Belarus? Do you like her? I'll bet you do," Italy rattled off happily in his ear.

America grinned. Italy, no matter what the situation was, could always make him smile. "Hey, dude. Yeah, actually, I was going to go crash her convo with that bartender, but Hungary got to it first," he explained, "Where's Germany?"

"Being drowned by fratello. He made him mad," the smaller nation explained cheerily, wiggling on his back.

"Oh," he said, looking back at the bar. Hungary and Belarus were gone. "Son of a bitch! Where did they go?" Italy shrugged. He sighed, and went off with Italy.

They were making their third round up the beach when he heard Belarus scream his name. He looked up just as she slammed into the water. "Shit, Belarus!" Without a second thought, he rushed into the ocean, diving once he far enough out that he wouldn't slam into the sand. He swam out as far as the end of the pier before he had to surface for air. He came up just as Belarus' last shout hit him and she sunk beneath the ocean.

She was farther out that he'd anticipated. She had bobbed up out by one of the buoys. Breathing in deeply, he dove once again into the water.

…..

"Belarus!"

Belarus heard the cry from the depth of her dark cave. The vibrations disturbed her deep slumber, sending waves through her chamber, shaking her awake. Letting herself be pulled forward, she began regaining her senses.

First was her sense of taste. Salt coated her tongue, sharp and metallic. Second was her sense of touch. Warm lips pressed against hers, flushing warm moist air into her starving lungs. Third was her sense of smell. That warm, musky sent pulled her forward, pushing out the smell of salt and sweat. Fourth was her hearing. Voices called for her, telling her to stay with them, to come back, not to leave. Last was her sight.

Belarus' eyes fluttered open just as America was pulling away after another attempt at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She coughed hard, expelling the water trapped in her lung and turned onto her side so she wouldn't choke on it. Water and spittle dripped to the sand as the taste of salt activated her gag reflex, causing her to dry heave.

"She's okay!" Italy shouted happily, clamping his arms around Germany's waist. The group around her went up in cheers, whooping and giving each other high-fives, hugging each other tightly.

America resisted the urge to wrap his arms around the woman in front of him. His insides shook with the adrenaline of the rescue as he held her hair back. He let his fingers slide through her hair as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Are you alright, missy?" England asked, leaning forward to watch her closely with some of the older nations.

Belarus nodded, not looking at any of them. She watched America out of the corner of her eye, hyper aware to the hand his kept pressed against the small of her back. His long finger rubbed gentle circles into her flesh. She didn't mind in the least.

"We should probably get back to the hotel…" Spain trailed off, realizing that they'd all booked their rooms in New York.

"Don't worry, guys, I've got a vacation home out here. We can crash there. I've got enough room," America said, pulling Belarus gently to her feet, his hand never leaving hers.

"We're going to America's house!" Italy called excitedly.

"Let's go then," France said impatiently, turning and sauntering away.

England sneered. "Hey, frog, your feathers are showing again!"

…..

"You call _this_ a vacation home?" Germany asked incredulously as the nations flooded through the door. They stared around at the open floor plan, rushing over to the double glass doors leading out onto a patio overlooking the ocean. A swampy river ran along one side of the property, feeding into the ocean.

America shrugged nonchalantly, throwing his towel across the back of a chair situated at the breakfast bar. "My boss a while back thought it'd be good for me to own a small home in every state for some reason even though I usually just stay in New York, for business and what not. This was one of the overkill ones. The one in Cali is just as bad."

"Brother!" The group heard from the second floor. Footsteps thundered against the roof, and a line of girls streamed down the stairs.

America's eyes went wide. "Hey, guys, what are you doing here?" he called to them even though they were only across the big room from him, "Aren't you supposed to be home working?"

"We thought we deserved a vacation and heard you guys were having the meeting here," Texas, a short, full-breasted, dark skinned teen with curly brown hair and a cowboy hat, told him, grinning widely, "Plus, Florida didn't want to stay at her place so we came here."

"Cool!" He enveloped the females in a bone crushing group hug, picking them up from the ground. He turned to the other nations, grinning widely just like Texas. "Well, I'm off to have fun with my sisters for a little bit. You can come along, but if not, the house is all yours." With that, the group rushed off, shouting and laughing.

Belarus turned her back from them, irritation poisoning her already foul mood. She mounted the stairs, finding a hallway full of doors. Walking to the end where a large window made up the back wall, she looked down on America. Even though she knew they were his sisters, she felt jealousy creep up slowly on her, wrapping her into his green arms. She wanted to shove her fist through the glass.

Before she had time to notice, cracks spider-webbed out from a chink in the glass. Frowning, she ran her finger along one crack. The glass shattered under her touch. Letting a squeak of surprise, she dropped into a crouch, covering her head with her arms. Shards sliced at her skin. Pain bloomed along her arms and hands.

She stood, looking down at the slices. Thin rivulets of crimson liquid slipped down her pale skin. Sighing loudly, she took the new injury in stride. She pushed the door to her left open gently, leaving a smear of blood on the doorknob.

The room was painted a greyish-blue. An unmade, queen-sized bed was pushed against the far wall. Despite not having been lived in for what she figured were weeks, a pile of dirty laundry sat in a corner. A stack of comics and movies sat on the dresser beside the remote to the TV hanging opposite the bed. Another door stood on the wall left of the bed.

Testing it, she found it unlocked. It opened into a medium-sized bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, Belarus stripped down and climbed into the shower. A contented sigh slipped from between her lips as the hot water slid over her body. Slowly, her muscles began to relax, leaving her felling sore.

Reaching for the shampoo, she stepped back out of the spray, and felt her foot slip out from under her. She slid to the tub floor, her head smacking hard against the tiles behind her. Black consumed her vision for what seemed like an hour, but was only a few seconds.

"Are you alright?" a frantic, Spanish-accented voice asked. The shower curtain was pulled back, and there stood Spain, still in his swim trunks. He reached in, shutting off the water and pulled her up, holding her steady as she swayed. "Are you alright?" he repeated the question.

Belarus pressed a hand to her forehead. "Yeah," she mumbled, her face reddening. She felt self-conscious standing naked in front of the older man.

"No, you're not," the Spaniard said calmly, "Your arms are all cut up. Let me clean them up for you." He pulled her from the shower, wrapped her in a fluffy white towel, then bustled off to find a first aid kit.

**There you go. Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter should, possibly, be the last chapter. We'll see. Feed the review monster! She's hungry (wow, I literally spelt hungry, Hungary, the first time through) and will soon start eating up the little details of the story that make it run well.**

**P.S. – Happy Single's Awareness Day! (a.k.a. Valentine's Day)**


	5. Chapter 5: Unwanted Alligator?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape or form.**

**Unedited, weeeeee :D**

Chapter 5: Unwanted… Alligator?

Belarus and Spain sat together in a tense silence as Spain worked over Belarus' arms, spreading salve over her cuts and wrapping her arms. He sat back, admiring his handy work. He kept one of her arms extended, watching the blood already seeping through the bandages.

With her other arm, Belarus clutched the towel to her chest. "T-thank you," she said, the words foreign as they rolled off her tongue.

"You're welcome," Spain replied cheerily, grinning widely at her. He didn't move from where he sat in front of her. Silence descended over the once more until Spain broke it with a couple well placed words. "So, you like America, huh?" He grinned knowingly.

Belarus started choking simply on the air she'd been breathing in. Heat raced across her face. "W-what are you t-talking about?" she sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the happy Spaniard. Wasn't he supposed to be the most oblivious of the nations? For God's sake, he didn't notice when someone had started taking off his pants! How the hell had he figured her out so easily?

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, but I must say, good choice! He's really a great guy if you get past the annoying, at times, personality. He's good in bed," he said thoughtfully, pursing his lips and turning his eyes to look out the window.

"What?!" she cried, confusion shooting through her, "When-?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago, when he was still a young man, but seriously, one of the best times in bed I've ever had. I have no idea where he got that kind of skill. We all know England doesn't have it," he explained easily, not a trace of embarrassment in his easy-going posture, "Ah, no, that's a lie if his old pirate days have anything to show."

Belarus furrowed her brow at the man before her leaning back on his hands. "Why are you telling me this?"

Spain sighed, running a hand throw his hair and for once looking older than his human age than younger. "Look, I know we've never been close friends. None of us have really been close friends, but I don't like seeing others unhappy. I've known you for many years now, and not once have I ever seen you truly happy."

Her frown deepened. "I'm happy with my brother," she corrected.

He shook his head. "No, that's not the same kind of happiness. That's happiness that comes from family, and even then, you were never very happy because he is constantly running from you. No, I'm talking about the kind of happiness that comes from loving someone."

"Love?" The word sounded awkward coming from her mouth. She'd never really thought about it before. Sure, she used it to describe how she felt about her brother, but she'd really never taken the time to think on the word. She'd never had to before, and didn't want to contemplate it now.

"Yes, exactly, love. Love is different from person to person, and especially from family members to friends, or people you get to know well. It can grow slowly over time, or burst into existence form the slightest event."

At that moment, the memory of her kiss with America pushed into her mind. She felt his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair. She smelt the warm scent that belonged only to him, and the desire rising from both of them.

If her face could have gotten any redder, it would have.

A grin curled at the edges of Spain's mouth. "It can be for a friend or a relative stranger. The only thing that's for sure about love is that we don't choose who we fall in love with. It's spontaneous and amazing, and so worth the trouble."

Pressing a corner of the towel to her mouth, she said, "You're speaking from experience." It wasn't a question, but simply a statement.

Spain's smile spread wider. "Yes, yes I am, so now you have proof that it exists and can happen." Getting to his feet, he dusted off his rear. "Don't let your chance slip away. You may not get another one, and I don't want to see you unhappy anymore." He smiled sweetly, gently pushing a strand of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. His fingers were warm and soft, skimming against her cheek. He smoothed back her hair before turning and leaving her to her thoughts.

"I don't understand," she murmured in denial, huddling down in the towel that smelled so much like America, but the thing was, she did understand. She just didn't want to admit it to herself.

…..

"Oh, there you are, Belarus. I was beginning to wonder where you'd gone," Russia said as Belarus came down the stairs. He blinked several times, taking in his sister's appearance. Instead of the bathing suit she'd been wearing, she now sported a blue button up jean shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, exposing her bandaged arms, over a pair of black boxers she'd obviously commandeered from America's drawers. Her hair was loose, falling down her back and around her face. He wondered if she realized that the boxers had yellow bat symbols dotting the black fabric. She looked so natural, and more beautiful than usual. "What were you doing?"

"Taking a shower," she replied simply without even glancing at him. Actually, she'd been mulling over Spain's words attempting to decipher their meaning. The process had been hampered by her complete and utter denial.

She stared out at the ocean where she could see many of the other nations playing. They threw buckets of water at each other and shot streams of water from toy guns, the most enthusiastic of the group being America, his sisters, and Italy.

Stepping out onto the back patio, she watched them wreak mayhem. Hungary and Prussia were facing off in the water, glaring determinedly at each other. They held fake swords in their hands, water guns strapped to their hips.

"If I win, you have to feed me alcohol through kisses," Prussia told her.

"And if I win, I get to top for the next week," Hungary countered.

"Fair enough." Silence fell, and then they were charging at each other.

Actually wondering who would win this one, Belarus paid close attention to the fight until a deep bellow, like that of a dragon, came from beside her. Frowning, she glanced towards the portion of the patio that bordered the swampy forest. Not twenty feet from her, and alligator stared at her hungrily.

Belarus glanced balefully towards the sky. '_Really? An alligator? Are you trying to set a record?'_ she thought bitterly at the sky, glaring into its blue depths. The deep bellow came again, drawing her attention back to the insistent animal.

They glared at each other for several long moments. The alligator's snouted bobbed up and down, air whistling through his nostrils. He snapped his teeth together, taking a slow step forward.

"Don't you have food in the swamp?" she asked the creature uninterestedly, her eyes half-lidded, "Do we really have to go through this? Can't you just go find someone else to eat?"

The alligator let out that roar once more and charged at her. It snapped greedily at her exposed leg, missing her by centimeters only because she backed up. Her eyes narrowed on the animal. It was times like these that she wished she had her daggers. The gator snapped at her leg again, and this time she kicked it under its snout.

Growling and shaking its huge head, the gator backed up a few steps.

"Belarus!" America and Russia called, finally spotting the alligator she was currently squaring off with. America started running towards her, but her words stopped him.

"Stop! Don't come any closer! I don't need you to save me every time I'm in trouble!" she shouted, anger boiling up. Anger at her stupidity, anger at her whole situation, anger that she couldn't save herself. She was just angry, period.

"But-" he began, but the alligator's angry bellow cut him off. The alligator was no longer hungry, just pissed at his meal being thwarted by the meal itself. It lunged for Belarus, slamming her legs with its strong tail.

Grimacing, she took the force of the blow, ignoring the pain that radiated through her leg, she jumped landing on her heels on the creature's snout. The gator snarled, throwing her off and snapping at her skin as she landed.

She felt his teeth graze her leg, but ignored the pain that shot up her leg, nearly crippling her. She slammed her heel into the front of its snout.

"Belarus," she heard Russia call calmly. She glanced up just in time to snatch the blade he'd tossed her from the air. Without even a second's pause, she imbedded the knife in the gator's back. It bellowed angrily, but didn't attack again. Backing up, it turned and slithered off the porch with a loud splash as it fell into the river. She collapsed to the floor as soon as it was out of sight.

America was by her side in seconds. "I'm sorry. I didn't think there'd be any alligator's this close to the ocean. Are you alright?" He ran his hands over her, checking of any cut or bruises.

"I'm fine!" she snapped angrily, making an attempt to stand, but only falling back to the wood of the patio. Her legs weren't working. They felt like pudding, soft and compressible. Pain shot through her body as her muscles trembled with the effort to contract.

"Belarus?" he asked, concern lacing his normally comical tone, pulling her eyes to his, "What's the matter?"

"My legs," she whispered, the fear stirring in her gut coloring her voice and darkening her eyes.

He dropped beside her, hand still clenched around hers, as the other nations slowly began to gather around the scene. Pulling her against his chest gently and lifting her off her legs, he pulled her legs out from under her.

She gasped in his ear, a mewl of pain escaping her clenched teeth. Gasps ran around the crowd. "What? What is it?" she asked, trying to push away from America, but he kept her firmly pressed where she was, "Let me see!"

Finally after exploring her legs with gently fingers, only running his fingers along her skin and leaves burning paths behind, he let her see the damage. It wasn't as bad as she'd been imagining, even if it had been inhibited by the mesmerizing feel of America's fingers slipping along her skin.

One of her calves was a deep, almost black, purple. If she hadn't been able to move it, she would have believed it was broken. Her other leg was a bloody mess. Crimson liquid coated her skin from deep gouge marks the gator's teeth had left. Blood still poured from the gouges, showing no sign of stopping anytime soon.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Lithuania asked, the cordless held in his hand. His face was pale, and his hands shook just the tiniest bit.

"No," Belarus shot before America had a chance to answer, "No ambulance. I just need gauze and rubbing alcohol. I can take care of this myself."

America glared sternly at her, ready to veto her decision, but the glare she shot him stopped him. "Fine," he muttered, not taking his hands from where the rested on her back and thigh.

"I've got the first aid kit," Spain called cheerily, trotting down the stairs. All eyes turned to him just in time to see him trip and slam face first into the tile. The group gasped, but he just popped back up like a jack-in-the-box, still grinning despite the blood that gushed from his nose. He trotted over to the pair on the floor, handing them the little red box. "Here ya' go."

"Cazzo idiota!" Romano shouted, stomping over to his lover as he spewed every foul word he knew in his native tongue at the older man, snatching a kitchen towel from the counter and pressing it to his nose.

Sighing loudly, America popped open the box and set to work on cleaning and bandaging Belarus' legs. Once he was done, he swept her into his arms and started to carry her away. "I think it'd be best if we all just stayed in the rest of the night," America called over the crowd from the stairs, "Unless you want to get bit up by mosquitos. I'm warning you now though they're the size of dogs, and we have hissing cockroaches." He grinned at the horrified looks on some of his fellow nations' faces. "Make yourselves at home." With that, he turned and disappeared up the stairs, Belarus still in his arms.

**So, apparently I was lying about this being the last chapter. We'll see what happens next. Maybe I'll end up squeezing another 2-3 chapters from the story. We'll see though. Feed the review monster! She's beginning to crave pretty little nations :P**

**P.S. - How do you guys feel about me shoving in a short little lemon? It'll only be my second one (first Hetalia one) so I don't know how good it would be. Review with your opinions please :D**


	6. Chapter 6: Stairs and then a Car

**Disclaimer: I own noTHING!**

**Unedited, oh yeah! :P**

Chapter 6: Stairs and then a Car

"What are you doing?" Belarus snarled as America placed her gently on his now made bed. His looked around at the cleaned room, a bemused frown turning down his lips.

"Did you clean my room?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She didn't look up at him, her face painted a soft pink. His eyes roamed over her form, taking in the elements of her appearance that he hadn't noticed while tending to her injuries. "And you're wearing my clothes? Wow, what happened while I was with my sisters?"

"Nothing," she snapped at him, glaring at her bandages.

Uncomfortable silence fell over them, only broken by the sounds of merry-making below them. The silence was finally cut by America's whispered question, "Why do you hate me?" He didn't look at her, staring fixedly at his toes.

Belarus jerked her head up towards him, irrational fear curling through her. She dropped her eyes as she answered. "I… I don't hate you," she answered truthfully, fidgeting with the cuffs of her shirt sleeves.

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked, suddenly standing in front of her.

"But I don't!" she protested, glaring up at him. Why wouldn't he believe her? Why was it that whenever she told the truth, no one ever seemed to believe her?

He dropped his hands on either side of her hips, making her lean back. "Then why do you act like you do? I thought after that night at Germany's place…" His voice trailed off, his cheeks going a pretty pink. His sky blue eyes dropped to stare at her lap. "Why did you even kiss me?"

Now she had a rational reason to be fearful. Her eyes grew to twice their size. He knew! He remembered! If only her legs weren't in so much pain, she would have already backed up against the headboard at the speed of light, but they weren't so she was trapped between his arms. "I, uh, um… I…" she stuttered, whatever lie she'd been ready to spew sticking in her throat.

"Was it just because you could? Or you wanted to get a kick out of pulling me along? Or just wanted someone to make out with? I know you weren't even buzzed that night so why? Why me?" America's voice grew quiet, almost inaudible, so that is the nations downstairs had been just a little louder, she wouldn't have been able to hear him.

Belarus shook her head vigorously, needing, wanting him to not believe those things. She herself didn't understand why she'd let herself be sucked into his kiss, or even let him kiss her in the first place, but those were definitely none of her reasons. "No, that's not why."

"Then why? What was the point?" he asked sternly, glaring harshly at her.

For once in her long life, Belarus flinched under someone's glare. "I don't know," she murmured, guilt congealing deep in her bones, before her voice rose, "But I know none of those things were my reasons!"

America scrutinized her for a long time, shame dampening his anger when he saw her flinch. She was staring down at her hands again, not meeting his eyes. She was the personification of temptation right then. She looked submissive and so alluring. He wondered silently what she'd do if her just gave into his desires for just one moment.

"I'm going to kiss you," he warned only a moment before pulling her chin up and pressing their lips together.

Surprise burst in Belarus, washing over any other emotions she'd been experiencing. Resisting the instinctual urge to shove him away violently, she melted into his kiss, her eyes sliding shut and her mouth opening to accept his kiss. Heat curled through her body, warming her blood, pooling between her thighs as her imagination took off in all different directions. When his knee slid between her knees, she let them be pushed apart just enough to accommodate his knee.

Spurred forward by the delayed rejection, America slid his hand around her bare waist under the button up, leaving the other to hold himself up over her. Her skin was cool and soft under his calloused hands, intriguing him to no end. He wanted to feel more of her, to know everything about her. His fingers drew gently, burning circles on her hip.

Threading her fingers through his hair, Belarus pulled the American closer to her, needing to feel his body against hers. His fingers against her hip were already driving her crazy. She wanted him. She wanted everything he had to offer.

He pushed his large hand up her side, loving the sharp intake of breath it elicited from her. Bringing his other knee up, Belarus began scooting back, moving more into the middle of the bed. He followed her without breaking their kiss.

Downstairs, the other nations were oblivious to the actions, gasps and moans emitted by the pair hidden safely away from prying eyes, except for one fat yellow bird that cheeped thoughtfully before disappearing into the crowd below.

…..

France grinned knowingly the next morning as America quietly came down the stairs. He leaned against a kitchen counter seeing as everywhere else was taken by sleeping countries. Even the table was taken, covered by a sprawled out Denmark. "Bonjour, Amérique. How are you? We were a bit worried after you disappeared upstairs with our dear Belarus last night and didn't come back. We thought maybe she had decided to murder you," he told the dirty blonde who yawned sleepily in response. He wore only a pair of boxers, the same boxers, in fact, that Belarus had been wearing yesterday. Love marks, also known as hickies, peppered his tanned skin.

"So, did anything… productive happen after you two disappeared?" the Frenchman asked suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at the oblivious man pouring himself a cup of coffee. The fat yellow bird that sat on his shoulder cheeped quietly in sleep, gently rocking back and forth.

Or maybe not so oblivious. A happy, satisfied smile curled the corners of America's lips. "No, not really. We just talked," he lied, hiding his smile behind the rim of his cup.

France smirked, watching the younger nation's attempt to lie. It wasn't going to work. "Big Brother France thinks you're lying. You see, I have a very trustworthy source," he glanced at the bird on his shoulder, "that says otherwise. Don't hold back the details. Spill them to your big brother."

America frowned, glaring at France. He wasn't going to let him ruin his night with his nosy prying. "What source? Who are you talking about?" he asked, hoping to deter the man.

"Never mind my source, I want to hear everything," France said, waving his hand at the other nation dismissively.

"Get your own life," America retorted, his mood quickly souring. He poured coffee into a second cup and was getting ready to disappear back up the stairs when a soft 'Ve~' came from the couch.

Both of the men paused in their actions, glancing over the breakfast bar to where Italy was pushing himself up, Germany's arm still wrapped around his waist. He yawned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Oh, good morning, America, France. Happy Valentine's Day," he said with a grin.

Both America and France nearly dropped their coffee cups, eyes going wide. "Shit," America moaned just as France muttered, "Merde."

"What is it?" Italy asked curiously, watching the two men drop their heads into their hands.

"I completely forgot to go buy something," they said in unison.

America set the two cups on the counter, taking the stairs two at a time. He reappeared moments later, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. He rushed for the door, car keys in hand.

"Hold on, mon cher. I will be accompanying you," France called, pulling on his shoes and running a cursory hand through his hair before hurrying over the blonde. America paused impatiently, waiting until France had caught up to him before bolting full sprint out the door.

…..

Belarus woke from a blissful sleep slowly, registering her surroundings just as slowly. She was curled in the middle of a plush bed, a down comforter curled around her. She breathed deeply. America's scent filled her nose, setting her at ease. Downstairs it sounded as if the others were waking up one by one. There was shouting and yelling. A TV blared BBC news that everyone except for Germany was most likely ignoring.

She rolled over, expecting to find the one man she'd actually been looking forward to seeing only to find empty covers. She ghosted her hands over the cold sheets. He hadn't been beside her for a long while now. She felt despair grip at her heart.

Rolling back onto her stomach, Belarus buried her face in the down pillows pressed against the headboard, hoping to fall back to sleep, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. A screech of rage rang through the house, identified at Hungary's, and followed quickly by Prussia's howl of pain from outside the window. This went on for well over an hour, and she finally gave up on the sleep idea.

Pushing herself up, the covers fell away from her body. Cool air washed over her exposed skin, making shiver. She slid off the bed, gingerly putting weight on her legs and holding onto the mattress incase her legs decided to give out on her. Pain snaked up her legs, but was more bearable than it had been the day before. If she was lucky, the bruise would already be turning that ugly green that healing bruises turned, and the gouges would already be forming new skin.

She glanced over her body, taking inventory of anything that may be different. Everything seemed to be in working order, but she see all of the love marks America had left up and down her torso and on the inside of her thighs. She was sure if she could see her neck and back, they'd be dotting those areas of her body as well.

An uncharacteristic, small smile pulled up her lips as she ran her fingers over a few of the marks running over her stomach. A new emotion, unfamiliar to her, seeped slowly into her bloodstream, warming her to the core.

Pulling her eyes away from her own skin, Belarus went and raided America's drawers for another pair of boxers, this time Captain America, and pulled on the shirt she'd been wearing yesterday. It'd been thrown clear across the room the night before, landing on the TV. She pulled open the door, glancing down the hall. She couldn't tell what the other countries were doing through the incessant babble. She was just about to pull back into the room when stomach took that moment to growl angrily, demanding food.

Sighing, Belarus began making her way downstairs. Of course, it wouldn't be Valentine's Day if something bad didn't happen to her. So, the moment her foot hit the first step of the stairs, her ankle rolled beneath her.

Squeezing her eyes together, ready to just take it, she waited for the pain that never came. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, leaving her suspended above the stair she'd been about to hit. The person reeled her back in, setting her on her feet. "Thank you," she began, a smile on her lips, but the words died in her throat as she turned not to find America, like she'd hoped and expected, but his sister who could have been his identical twin if she were male.

"Don't mention it," the girl said happily, tipping her cowboy hat to her, "It was my pleasure. You should be a little more careful seeing as how badly you got her yesterday." She smiled widely, rocking back and forth on her heels. "I can carry you down the stairs if you need me too."

Belarus shook her head at the woman's offer, turning and quickly making her way down the stairs. She didn't trip this time, thank god, but her ankle throbbed with every step. The scene she came upon was utter chaos.

Nations rushed around in various stages of being dressed, munching bagels or Poptarts and nursing cups of coffee as they pulled on pants or attempted to tie their shoes through a hangover. Germany, of course, was fully dressed and shouting into his cellphone. "Nein! You will meet us at the meeting! We're leaving in five minutes. You will either be here before then, or meet us at the meeting!" he snapped, hanging up before he could listen to the pleas of his recipients, "We're leaving in five minutes!"

Groans ran around the room, but the nations appropriately began pulling on clothing articles.

"Belarus, I pulled out a dress and shoes for you. I added a bra and new underwear too," Hungary said suddenly, stepping out in front of her, "I put them in the bathroom. I figured you'd like to take a shower after your activates last night."

Belarus frowned. How did Hungary know about her night? As answer to Belarus' unanswered question, the woman held out her cell, a picture of America and her soundly asleep in each other's arms filling the screen. Her cheeks heated. She turned on her heel, slamming the bathroom door, Hungary's giggly laughter following after her.

When she finally emerged from the shower, the house was cleared out except for America's sisters who were spread out on the couch and floor in front of the TV. "They all went to the meeting about five minutes ago. Do you have a way to get there?" the America look-a-like asked, glancing over her shoulder at Belarus.

"Yes," she said simply, pulling her keys that Hungary had stuck in her dress pocket out. She clutched them hard in her hand, staring down at them. Should she really try to drive today? Could she just hull herself up in America's bedroom and wait until he returned without getting chewed out later? Both had no as her answer.

Sighing, Belarus exited the air conditioning of the house for the sticky humidity outside. Somehow, she made it to the building the meeting was being held in in one piece, parking across the street, but that seemed as far as what little luck she had went.

She stood between the fender of her rental and the bumper of the car in front of her, glancing up and down the road. When there was absolutely no traffic coming towards her, she ventured across the street. Out of nowhere, a car came speeding towards her, veering towards her.

"Watch out!" that familiar male voice that never failed to send her fluttering shouted. A solid mass hit her from behind, propelling them both forward. The rolled between two parked car as the car sped past, squealing around a corner. "Jesus, freaking idiot," America muttered, glaring after the car.

"America? Aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?" Belarus asked, struggling to hands and knees on the sidewalk. Her breath came in quick, short gasps, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"I was waiting for you. I wanted to ask you something," he huffed, clutching something to his chest.

Belarus cocked her head to the side, watching him curiously. "What did you need to ask me?"

Taking a deep breath, America pulled himself to his feet. He swept her into his arms. "I was wondering if you'd do me the favor of being my Valentine, not only for today, but for many years to come," he said, a little less confidently than usual, holding out a small bouquet of roses, delicate blue flower breaking up the deep red. That small blue flower was her national flower, the flax flower.

An involuntary smile broke across her face as she stared at the flowers, taking them from him gently. She looked to him, her eyes sparkling.

"I'll take that as a yes," America laughed, smiling widely.

"Yes," Belarus murmured, taking his face between her hands, and kissing him deeply.

When they broke apart, America started into the building, still holding her bridal style. They were almost to the meeting room when America paused, smiling sheepishly at her. "By the way, Russia and I rigged most of the things that have happened to you over the past couple days," he confessed.

Belarus narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

These two were going to make for an interesting couple.

**Well, there you go, the last chappy. I hope it ended sufficiently. If my boyfriend (which I don't have and haven't had since my freshmen year of high school) ever did that to me, I'd destroy him. Anyway, this was so much fun to write, just the whole thing all together. It was a lot of fun pushing Belarus out of her comfort zone every chapter. Since it's the last chapter, I think you should all review, yes? *hint, hint* *wink, wink* :P**

**P.S.- If you want me to write out that lemon from earlier in this chappy, I'll post it on DA. If you want my username and to request the lemon, either review or PM me, kk? :D**


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